


si vis pacem para bellvm

by enbyboiwonder



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Arachnophobia, Cats, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 17:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20439458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbyboiwonder/pseuds/enbyboiwonder
Summary: David Hodges loves cats for their companionship.  And their propensity for eating spiders.





	si vis pacem para bellvm

**Author's Note:**

> I'm deathly arachnophobic, so after That Scene at the beginning of 10.01 Family Affair, I started wondering if anyone on the graveyard shift was arachnophobic (and somehow I knew Greg wasn't, even before the end of the episode), and then I couldn't get the image out of my head of Hodges holding Kobe out to a spider, trying to get him to eat it. It's such an endearing image that I had to write it.
> 
> The title means, "if you want peace, prepare for war." Maybe a little dramatic, sure, but a) not really when you’ve got anxiety, and b) Hodges is kind of a dramatic bitch lmao I love him. Also, it’s a DISCO episode title (if spelled a bit differently). When in doubt, turn to Star trek lmao

This is, quite frankly, getting ridiculous.

Avoiding an entire corner of his living room when he can get away with it, constantly on guard and looking over his shoulder when he can't…

If it were any other bug, he'd have taken care of it already, gotten his vacuum cleaner—he hates using a tissue to dispose of bugs; he can always _feel_ them getting crushed as keenly as if he'd used his bare fingers—and sucked it up with the hose attachment. But the constant, low-level, gnawing anxiety that it escaped, slipped away unnoticed, and isn't dead or dying amongst the dust and hair and fur in his vacuum is worse than just leaving it where it is. At least if he leaves it alone, he knows exactly where the little octopedal nightmare is: on its web in his living room in the corner between the ceiling and the wall shared with the kitchen.

But this is, quite frankly, getting ridiculous.

It's been _days_.

One wary eye on that literal spawn of Satan as he passes it, he edges out of the room and strides down the short hall and into his bedroom. He doesn't stop until he reaches his bed, pulling back the covers to reveal the lump in the middle of the mattress to be a drowsing Kobayashi Maru. The cat flicks an ear, opening one eye to glare balefully up at him.

"How would you feel about a snack?"

Kobe meows. David takes that to mean he's not opposed.

"Good." He slips one hand under Kobayashi's chest and lifts him up, using his other hand to support the cat's rump, and marches back out into the living room.

He finds his target immediately—the little hellion is right where it was when he left it, as it has been with little variation since it first showed up earlier in the week—and holds Kobe up to it. Kobe takes an interest immediately. David moves with him just enough to ensure that Kobe doesn't fall and that he can reach the little demonspawn as he stretches toward it, extending both front paws as if testing the waters before trying to catch the eight-legged fiend between them, getting closer and closer, but then a waving paw brushes through the side of the web, and instead of retreating, the little arachnidan bastard drops suddenly to the carpet.

"Oh, god." He flinches backward, accidentally dropping Kobe in his alarm. Wholly unbothered by this change in elevation, the cat takes up a hunting stance, stalking something which David can't see but which he fervently hopes is still the demon in arachnid form—and David takes a few cautionary steps back until he comes up alongside his couch, resting a steadying hand against it. Tracking his prey's movement with his eyes, Kobayashi raises a paw, then bats at it, and again, and again, and "Oh, please don't play with it," David whines, fingers curling white-knuckled around the edge of the cushion. He knows it's hunting instinct, but just once, just _once_, if Kobe would just kill his prey without exhausting it first, that would be great—terrific, actually—_so_ much better for his peace of mind.

He can't look away, though; he has to know that, once Kobe's wandered off to find another napping place, it's not because he's gotten bored. Finally, after what seems like far too long, Kobe pounces, and it certainly looks like he's eating something, but David's not going to look too closely.

Gusting out a controlled breath, he straightens, then goes and retrieves his vacuum, giving the crime scene a sweeping, assessing glance, web to cat to web, as he passes. No bug, as far as he can tell. Good. Kobe trots off when he returns, jumping up onto the back of the couch to curl up there and watch him use the hose attachment to suck up the remains of the web, and then vacuum the area of the floor beneath it for good measure. He resets the vacuum and rests his hands on his hips, doing a quick survey of the room, satisfied. Tail waving lazily, Kobe chirps at him, and David drifts over to scratch him affectionately under the chin for a job well done, the cat purring loudly at the attention.


End file.
